


smoky quartz

by PersephoneHemingway



Series: spyglass//gunmetal [9]
Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha John Wick, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arranged Bonding, Assassins & Hitmen, Begging, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Contracts, D'Antonio!Reader, Domestic, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, In Rut, John Wick Has Feelings, Knotting, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Injuries, Nesting, Not Canon Compliant, Omega Reader, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, One Shot, Overprotective, Protective John Wick, Reader-Insert, Scenting, Self-Indulgent, Strangers to Lovers, Transitions what transitions?, heats are every 3 months for this one, sorry i didn't include Dog, warm blankets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29660424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephoneHemingway/pseuds/PersephoneHemingway
Summary: in which John Wick and his Omega come to terms with their arranged relationship
Relationships: John Wick/Reader, John Wick/You
Series: spyglass//gunmetal [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1477025
Kudos: 47





	smoky quartz

**Author's Note:**

> i imagine reader with the slightest hint of an accent, but i mean, you don't have to; (doesn't affect the dialogue much) :P

He didn’t have a choice, not really.

Not if he wanted that bounty off his head.

Not if he wanted to live.

John had Santino cornered in the Continental, and he was _entirely_ too calm to be playing the prey.

“…You know, maybe I could forgive your crimes against my family if you too were of the family…”

John cocked his head to the side but did not drop his gun.

“You see Mr. Wick, it is not well-known that I have a rather unruly Omega as a daughter.” Santino rubbed at his chin as if contemplating; the smiling shark showed its teeth.

“Consider her a gift, for your cooperation.”

Because _wouldn’t it be nice_ if Camorra had an asset as feared as _John Wick_ in their pocket _._

&

They had at least saved you the embarrassment of being passed like cattle from one hand to the next— your father had his people drop you off in John’s home (which had been _generously_ reconstructed and refurnished in record time) and lock you in one of the bedrooms.

John let you out as soon as he arrived, but he didn’t say a word as you muttered a soft _grazie_ and slipped away to grab some fruit from the kitchen.

The next thing you did was break off the lock on your door.

&

Your presence in his home triggers his rut within the first few days. You were only a day or two off your last heat when they brought you, so you knew this was a possibility.

When he takes you, he’s quiet save for a few grunts in pleasure when he hits you particularly deep and knots you full like a good Alpha should.

You do your best to stay as submissive as possible as to not offend the rutting Alpha—you’re presenting beautifully and letting out little mewls when you can’t help it. You were afraid he wouldn’t want you to be too loud.

He doesn’t know you. You don’t know him.

He holds you by the shoulders, bites down hard, and breathes into your hair until you uncouple. He promptly excuses himself to the shower after. He leaves you newly-bitten, and it _aches_. You curl up into a comforter, pick another room, and fall asleep with silent tears wetting your cheeks and John’s sticky seed dripping down your thighs. You rub them together. You whine.

_Alpha doesn’t want me. Alpha didn’t take care of me. Alpha bit me and went away. Alpha just needed an Omega to rut, and I was around. He doesn’t want me around._

&

You spent a lot of time curled up in an armchair by the window, sunning yourself. If John was ever home to see you there, he would usually make brief eye contact with you before quickly taking care of his needs in the common space before retreating back outside or to other rooms.

His side of the bond gave you nothing. He was so well-guarded— you could feel him there, but you couldn’t sense much else other than his state of consciousness. Sometimes you could feel when he was dreaming.

_You were so lonely._

You focused whatever you could into trying to make your mind as quiet as his was.

_Maybe if I imagined a wall— around him, or around me, or just between us. Maybe if I put myself out on an island, and filled all the space with ocean he couldn’t cross, as if infinite. Would I miss him on the mainland? Would he try and build a boat?_

_Or if I tried to think nothing at all…_

&

All you ever did was do your best to stay out of the way—

but he was tall, and you needed a bowl— so you climbed up on the kitchen counter to reach the shelves.

He walks so quietly; you weren’t even aware he’d entered the kitchen until he was behind you and scolding you, scaring you nearly off the countertop and into him for the catch.

“Watch yourself, Omega, don’t climb up here again.”

"But, you put things so high up sometimes! How else do I reach?"

"You call for my help, 'mega. You don't put yourself in danger."

"Danger? It’s a kitchen counter, John, no big deal."

"Oh? And if you fell? Got hurt? Bled? Do you know how that'd make me feel? To see you in pain? To risk losing you?" His voice grew increasingly raspy and desperate. Was he really worried... about _you_? _From falling a few feet?_

"Alpha... I... I'm sorry..." And really, you were. He looked so distraught, and you could feel it trickle through the bond he usually kept so guarded— and maybe even in your heart. He worried for you. He maybe even cared for you, truly. Beyond a sense of duty, beyond your arrangement... You shook it from your mind.

_No— he probably just doesn’t want another thing to worry about… you’re a burden already…_

You skittered off to find a place to nest; ease your anxiety.

&

You always left your door cracked, but you didn't mean it as an invitation, and John didn't take it for one.

_You were so used to being in the house alone._

He heard whimpers as he passed by your room, peeking in to see you while trying not to let too much light in from the hallway.

_Does Omega need me? No, I'd scent it if she were in heat..._

You weren't writhing for a knot, but your hands _were_ tangled up in your bedsheets, kicking and squirming as if being held down—

_Nightmare._

John's face fell in recognition, and he did his best to push _calm_ and _safe_ across the bond to combat the fear. Soon you projected _confidence_ and the feeling of _breath after formerly having been robbed of it;_ you stilled, brought your arms in to self-sooth, and curled onto your side. You must’ve taken care of whatever was harming you.

John reset the door to where you'd left it and retired to his own bed.

&

You startled awake to the sound of the front door slamming shut. You pulled your sheet around yourself, took the pocketknife off your bedside table, and peeked into the hall.

At the sight of John, you retract the knife.

He’s lumbering in, clearly in pain, and you wonder how you can’t feel any of it.

One arm is not in the sleeve of his suit jacket, and he’s clutching his ribcage on one side. Even through the black, you can tell he’s bleeding. He limps his way to the bathroom and stops to hold himself up on the doorframe.

He must sense you because he looks up and your eyes connect. He throws himself the rest of the way into the bathroom and closes the door hard.

Once he’s finished stitching himself back together, he emerges from the bathroom and looks down to find a bowl of reheated pasta, a bottle of painkillers, and a glass of red wine on the floor.

John noted that the pills were far stronger than anything offered over-the-counter. He didn’t intend to return them to you.

He swallowed two with the wine and took the bowl with him into the kitchen. He got through half the pasta before he needed to drag himself to bed to crash.

All you saw was the unfinished pasta left on the bartop the next morning.

&

You break a glass and you're overwhelmed and you’re crying as you pick up the pieces. You cut your hand and you're sucking the blood off when John finds you.

And he knows the scent of blood anywhere.

"Oh-!" He rushes over and crouches beside you, holding your hands in his.

"What happened, 'mega? Are you okay?"

Something about his care tapped a crack in your shell enough to break through. You flinched back, yolk exposed.

"You think I think you really care!? I know this is just duty for you _Alpha_ ," you sneered the title, "I know you're an honorable man, even killers can be. But don’t delude yourself— I am not so naïve you have me fooled into thinking you truly _care_ for me. I know what this is. I know my _place_." You looked down at the remaining pieces of glass, your strong voice fading to a murmur.

"I know I'm just relief. A way to get you out of the life debt you owe my father. Convenient. Your little breeding bitch." You did everything you could to keep emotion from your voice, and failed.

"I know I was a 'gift,' not a decision." _An alternative to death._

You didn't understand how John could look so sad, then.

"Oh, (Y/N)... I never meant to make you think… well, I never said anything to make you think any differently, did I?” He ran his palm down his face; you watched him, guarded.

“I care for you. I want to care for you. This isn’t easy for-“ he dropped his hand, “me to-“ he choked on the rest of the words, so he looked into your eyes, opened the bond, and let you feel _everything_.

His hurt, his regret, his _affection_ — his need to go on— and as an Alpha, not a need to dominate, but _to care for_ — and it was _honest_. And you didn’t— you couldn’t—

“Come here?" He was a little uncertain, but he opened his arms for you. You stayed still with shock. He smiled shyly, and then you were crawling to him so he could wrap you up safe and warm (and _loved_ ).

"Sweet 'mega..."

"Really?" In a voice so soft.

"Really."

“You want me? You want me _here?_ ”

“Your presence, your scent… it’s, _soothing_. It’s comfort; it’s safety. You make me feel like I can go on.”

You rubbed your face flat against his chest. You thought of how your blood was staining John’s shirt with your hands wrapped around his waist. You imagine he’s had worse.

“And it’s not just your designation. Other Omegas… I’ve never felt _safe_. It’s _you._ _Your_ scent. _Your_ body. _Your_ shy little glances when you think I’m not paying attention.”

Your cheeks flush. _When has he ever talked so much at once?_

“I don’t know, maybe it’s from all the rooms you must’ve been in over the years filled with angry Alphas you’ve had to calm… but just the sight of you— or just standing near me, even if I can’t see… you’re a lighthouse.”

Your mouth still pressed into his chest, you tilt your head back to look up at him.

“I appreciate you. I like you here. I want you to like it here too… with me…”

You pull back so your face is even with his.

“Okay, John.”

“Yeah?”

“Okay.”

&

You weren’t so innocent to expect that life with a kind-of-but-not-really-retired assassin would expose you to any less violence than you were witness to in the house of your Camorra father.

Something was bound to happen to you— such is the nature of the underworld.

Luckily, you were not inexperienced, nor were you without your own tricks and teeth.

They could’ve been enemies of John’s or your father’s— it didn’t matter much to you. You only cared that they were in your house, and they shouldn’t have been.

You were expecting John home soon, and it showed in your actions— you could afford to be a little bolder when you knew the _Baba Yaga_ would be there soon for back-up.

You threw taunts as you threw your voice— a nice distraction for when you threw kitchen knives into shoulders and thighs. You even managed a lucky slice to the jugular on the one who grabbed you from behind, so John only had to handle three out of the four trespassers upon his timely return.

With the four men dead on the floor, John joined you in the half-bath where you’d been washing the blood from your hair. He took your hands in his, wet from the sinkwater.

“You’re not hurt?”

You shook your head.

“Not my blood. Well, it might be, here—” you gestured to the back of your head. “I think I hit the man’s teeth when I slammed my head back into his face. Otherwise, it’s no more than bruises, I think.” You guided your hand back to John’s and squeezed.

He glances at the knife block you’ve left by the sink, nearly knifeless.

“You did well.”

"I'm _your_ Omega, John. You think I don't pay attention?" And even as he looks over your minor injuries with grave worry he's purring with pride.

" _My_ little 'mega. Protecting herself, kicking ass... so clever..." He nuzzles up to your neck and licks your bond mark. You whine high and pretty as he latches on with his lips and sucks.

He shushes you into submission and is attentive and sweet when you mate. You melt into him and feel so safe. Tender.

_I won’t let it happen again. No one will touch you again._

&

You’re nearing your heat and you’re nesting— when in pre-heat, you always feel like you can never get warm.

John notices how you curl up and shiver in your nest, and from then on he warms up blankets in the dryer for you when you're nesting near your heats.

You're touched.

"You know Alpha, I would be warmer if you came in and sat with me too...?"

You spoke shyly, as if asking a question you were expecting a no to. With your chin tucked, you didn't immediately notice when John moved closer with the intent of crawling into your nest, but as he did, your inner Omega was preening. _Oh! He likes me, he likes me!_

He spoke in a deep rumble,

"Whatever you want, 'mega." _I'll give you anything._

&

Your first heat with John finally arrives, and he provides you with all the nourishment, comfort, fucking, and come a needy Omega needs to make it through.

When the urgency of the first night of heat has passed, you’re curled up and purring in warm blankets as you rest, John bookbinding at a desk nearby in case you need more Alpha attention.

You can feel the slightest itch of your body working itself back up into something feral.

You’ve been wanting to ask…

“John?”

“Yes?”

He’d set down the book he was working on and turned his attention to you. Your courage left you immediately.

“N-no… forget it…”

You were grumbly— you didn’t want to say anything, to leave yourself vulnerable to the face that brought mafias to their knees… but how else would he know? He was usually so gentle with you…

He twisted so his arm rested on the back of his chair to face you further.

"(Y/N), you can say it. Ask me, please?" Puppy dog eyes. Who armed the assassin with puppy dog eyes?

"Uh, well, I was wondering if you'd..." You coughed and dropped your voice. "If you'd _punish my needy Omega ass... and then fuck me so hard I can't walk for the rest of my heat..” So I’ll just lay here all nice and limp and good for you to come over and take care of me with a fat knot any time I whine for you…_

He stared at you and said nothing for a beat or two, then seemed to make a decision, "Yeah, I can do that."

You could feel the itch spread, your temperature rising and your blood pinkening your skin.

"O-oh, okay good. Good. Yes. Thanks?"

A smirk. And he _lunged_.

And oh, you were _lost_ in the very best way.

&

His hand was fisted in your hair as he lifted your ear to his lips.

"You sure you deserve my cock after all you've put me through, 'mega? You think this punishment's enough?"

You, ass striped and limbs tied, trembling through pain and pleasure and wet with tears and cream, immediately thought: _Of course, you sadistic asshole! You better fuck me soon or else I'll—_

But what you vocalized was much different.

"Y-ye-yes-! P-p-pleas-e! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!"

"Hm, I don't know..."

"Al-Alpha!! _Alpha!_ " You sobbed out then buried your face into the plush of the bed and _screamed_ , needing some way to release the build-up of tension and dissonant emotion.

His weight then bore down on you as a solid comfort. He shushed you, pet you, and you calmed. You held still beneath him and he told you what a good girl you were, how well you took your punishment, how proud his Alpha was of your Omega.

You settled, giving yourself over to him, trusting him to take care of you as you went limp and began to purr, slow and sweet.

John was enthralled by you, what a good pair you made— what you allowed him and even _wanted him_ to do to you— it was rare the universe was ever so kind to give this kind of gift, nonetheless to a killer like himself.

John tucked you under him carefully; he lifted your hips to his and your back fell into a swooping arch. Your continuing purrs began soothing something deep within him that he thought he'd broken or lost over his many years in the life of coins and contracts. After Helen, he didn't think he'd ever get this again. Even with Helen, he'd hardly believed he wasn't dreaming.

And now he had you, a strong Omega in body and spirit, purring and compliant beneath him, ready to take whatever he had to give.

It was intoxicating. Exhilarating. Better than revenge. Better than the kill.

You whined and he realized he was spending too long in his thoughts. He remedied that immediately.

You were full of him and no amount of time would ever be enough.

&

You were lounging in the lobby of the Continental within Charon’s line of sight when John returned, on edge from what he’d felt from you through the bond.

He brought you into his arms and you warmed.

"I know you're hurt, 'mega, I can smell it on you."

"I-John, I-"

"Just tell me what happened. The truth, (Y/N)."

"I- there was- someone was looking for you, and I wouldn't tell them where you were, what you were doing..." You sighed. "He did not like that very much. Was rude about it... I was downstairs in the back of the bar, tried to stand and leave but he was in the way, so I jumped the table and fled to the side, but he caught me by the arm, slammed me into the wall. It knocked the breath from me, but I kneed him in the groin and reached for my wine glass, broke it over his head and sliced at his eye with what was left. When I saw blood I ran, signaled Addy and pointed before I left the bar." You breathed. 

"I didn't recognize him, or any loyalty markers, but last I saw, Winston had gotten a hold of him for a chat... he can probably tell you who he was."

"Oh, (Y/N)..." He stepped back and held you at your shoulders, then pulled at your shirt like he wanted it off.

You raised your arms for him and he slipped it over your head. He dropped it behind you and ran his hands gently across your back. The evidence of pain wasn't fully visible, but it was clear you were aching.

"(Y/N), you're all bruised up..."

"Yes, I know..." His face dropped gloomy.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"John, it's okay, It had been worse, back before you claimed me."

"But I gave you my word you wouldn't have to worry about that anymore..."

"It's okay, I know you do everything you can, really. John, you're a good Alpha. You're my Alpha. You are not failing. You protect me. Without you, I wouldn't know how to protect myself, I wouldn't have been able to get away and catch Addy's attention. Please do not be angry with yourself."

He nosed at your neck and inhaled, vulnerable, seeking your comfort. You emitted a soothing purr to ease his nerves.

"Thank you sweet girl.” He paused. “I love you."

You brushed his hair with your fingers and clung close.

"I love you too, John."

&


End file.
